


Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket

by thegirl20



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl20/pseuds/thegirl20
Summary: Yennefer finds something in Tissaia's wardrobe and reminisces about her time at Aretuza.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 24
Kudos: 126





	Just slip me on, I'll be your blanket

"Can you bring me my gown, darling?" Tissaia asks, from the dressing table, where she is arranging her hair in some complicated knot that Yennefer will have difficulty unpicking later. She's fresh from her bath, wearing only a thin dressing gown.

"Which one did you say you were going to wear again?" Yennefer says, opening the wardrobe and flicking through dozens of dresses. She moves to the more formal selection, away from Tissaia's day to day wear.

"The one you said you liked very much when I wore it to the ball in Tretogor," Tissaia tells her.

"Oh, _that_ one." Yennefer smirks. "I do like that one. It provides very easy access."

She rifles through the dresses until she finds the one they're talking about. She frowns as she has difficulty pulling it out. She leans in to investigate and finds that it is tangled in something else. She yanks them both out and starts to laugh; yards and yards of material the colour of a stormy sea follow her as she walks backwards until the garment is free.

"You still have this old thing?" she asks, wafting the silk cloak around, trying to straighten it out.

"Hmm?" Tissaia turns and lifts an eyebrow. "It's very fine silk, Yennefer. Why would I rid myself of it?" She turns back to the mirror. "Of course, after the antics of you and your friends, I stopped wearing it to teach."

Yennefer presses her lips together, as she thinks back on the incident in question.

* * *

"Why do you think we're here?" Fringilla asks, fidgeting and glancing around the room. Yennefer, Fringilla and Sabrina were instructed to go to the Rectoress' office and wait. They're all bunched up on one of the uncomfortable couches that line the walls.

Yennefer rolls her eyes. She's much more used to being summoned to Tissaia's office than the other two. Generally it's to be verbally hauled over the coals for whatever Tissaia perceives her wrongdoings to be in any given week.

"Dunno," Yennefer picks at a loose thread on the hem of her dress. "She probably wants to give us a bollocking."

"Well, _I've_ done nothing wrong," Sabrina says, with a pout. "And I'm _not_ going to be taking the blame for whatever trouble the pair of you have got mixed up in."

Yennefer stands, moving to Tissaia's bookshelves. She runs her finger along the leather bound tomes, reading a title here and there but not really paying attention. "You're probably just here to watch," she offers. "Since you're her little protégé."

She hides a smile at the huff Sabrina lets out, but she doesn't miss the look she exchanges with Fringilla.

"Maybe you shouldn't touch anything," Fringilla says. "Maybe we should just sit and wait. Quietly."

"Maybe you shouldn't cower in the corner all your life," Yennefer shoots back, picking out a random book and flicking through it. She shoves it back and turns to face Fringilla. "You can't cling to Tissaia's skirts forever."

"I- I don't!" Fringilla protests, but when Yennefer approaches the coatstand in the corner of the room, she sucks in a breath. " _Please_ don't touch anything else!"

Yennefer grins, taking Tissaia's silk cloak down from its hook and shaking it out. She tilts her head. "How the fuck does she wear this thing?" she asks, wafting it to try and see its full length. "It must be three or four yards long, and she's barely four feet."

"She wears it draped over an arm," Sabrina says, examining her nails. "Obviously."

"Hmmm." Yennefer fastens the cloak around her neck and then sweeps the trailing fabric over her arm, winding it around. She eyes the fabric still pooled on the floor. "How does she not get tangled in it?"

"Grace and poise, Yennefer." Sabrina smirks. "Two things you know nothing about."

"Bitch," Yennefer mutters.

"Maybe it's enchanted?" Fringilla suggests. "Perhaps she keeps it from tangling with magic?"

Yennefer considers this possibility. "Well, she _is_ a dramatic bitch. I can actually believe she'd use magic to keep her fucking cloak straight." She takes a few steps, trying to let the fabric flow behind her, but it doesn't work, it keeps dragging along the floor.

"You're going to get it filthy," Sabrina tells her. "Put it back."

Ignoring her completely, Yennefer's still trying to figure out how Tissaia wrangles this thing. "Oh! Maybe it's wind!"

The other two exchange a confused glance. "Wind?"

"Yes!" Yennefer grins, triumphant. "I bet she does something with the airflow so that the cloak doesn't drag and doesn't tangle around her tiny feet."

Sabrina sighs. "Look, Fringilla's right. Just put it back and come and sit down."

But Yennefer's curiosity has been piqued. She starts to walk, murmuring a few words of Elder, and sure enough the cloak billows out behind her, briefly, before falling. She frowns and tries again, giving the incantation just a little more power. Unfortunately, it's a little _too_ much power. The gust of wind it creates blows the books off several shelves.

"Shit," Yen says, looking down at the pile at her feet.

Fringilla's already out of her seat and heading over to tidy up. Sabrina also gets up, casting a glare in Yennefer's direction. Oh well, no sense in too many of them pitching in.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and sweeps away, wafting the cloak behind her. "Now, girls," she says, in her best approximation of Tissaia's high, slightly nasal voice. "You must remember that chaos is everywhere, and nowhere, and anywhere. And we have to control it by having no emotions, but also remember to _use_ any emotions you simply can't avoid to channel your chaos." Sabrina snickers, but Fringilla just shakes her head. "Oh, and balance! We mustn't forget balance." She twirls a few times. "I find that my balance is greatly aided by shoving a broomstick right up my-"

Sabrina coughs, loudly enough to make Yennefer stop talking and look at her. Both she and Fringilla have stood up, and have their heads bowed and hands behind their back. That can mean only one thing.

"Do continue, Piglet," Tissaia drawls from behind her. "I'm _very_ keen to hear your take on balance."

Yennefer, forgetting what she's wearing, spins to face Tissaia, but ends up getting her legs tangled in the stupid cloak. She can feel herself falling, and can do nothing about it. She makes contact with the hard floor. Pain shoots up her arm into her shoulder; she'll pay for that later. She looks up as Tissaia's face comes into view, looking down at her.

"Never mind," she says, lifting an eyebrow. "It seems 'balance' isn't your forté."

Yennefer sighs.

* * *

"You didn't even yell at us, that day," Yennefer muses, letting the silk run through her fingers. "Just dismissed us."

"Hmmm," Tissaia stands and approaches, running her fingers over the garment in Yennefer's hands. "Well, you see, I was having a great deal of trouble not laughing at how ridiculous you looked."

"Fair enough." Yennefer wets her lips, her eyes falling to the plunging neckline of Tissaia's dressing gown. "You never looked ridiculous in it, though," she murmurs.

"True," Tissaia says, with a smile. "I carried it well."

Stepping closer, Yennefer slowly tugs the bow of Tissaia's belt until it loosens and the dressing gown falls open. Tissaia's eyes darken and she gives a slight nod, angling her shoulder so that the dressing gown slips off, pooling at her feet. Yennefer takes a moment to look at her, naked and resplendent, before moving to stand behind her. She leans in and places a kiss at the nape of Tissaia's neck, then another on her shoulder, before fastening the cloak around her neck.

As she moves back around, Tissaia gathers up the fabric and arranges it over her arm. Yennefer fixes the shoulders of the cloak so they're sitting properly, and then steps back. Tissaia tilts her head, and starts to walk. The cloak comes to life, lifting and flapping and billowing far more than it should for Tissaia's sedate pace. Yennefer smiles and shakes her head; still a dramatic bitch.

Tissaia turns back to face her and her breath catches. She is magnificent, naked but for the silk draped across her. Yennefer is struck by the need to compare the smooth surface of Tissaia's skin with the silk. She's positive the silk will be found wanting.

Closing the distance between them in a few strides, and shedding her own robe along the way, Yennefer slips a hand beneath the cloak and around to Tissaia's back. "How about we skip this ball and just stay here instead?" she suggests, picking up the hem of the cloak and winding it around her own waist, enfolding them both in the fabric.

"That _is_ tempting," Tissaia admits, her eyes flicking to Yennefer's lips. "What excuse could we give, though?"

"Why do we need to?" Yennefer presses a kiss to Tissaia's lips, already knowing she's won if Tissaia's trying to think of excuses. "You're the Rectoress. Just tell them you were _wrapped up_ in something and lost track of time."

"Yennefer," Tissaia complains, but pulls her closer. "No puns, please."

"Don't worry, darling," Yennefer grins. "I'm sure your minions will _cover_ for you."

"One more terrible pun and we _will_ go to that ball," Tissaia warns, even as her hands start to wander across Yennefer's back.

Yennefer laughs against the skin of Tissaia's neck. "You should keep the reasons for your absence _cloaked_ in mystery."

Tissaia sighs, but her lips twitch. "Insufferable girl." She shakes her head. "Kiss me before I change my mind."

So Yennefer does.


End file.
